Our Greatest Show Unearthed
by ChaoticXXHearts
Summary: Step right up, you won't believe your eyes! Come see these amazing creatures that are neither human nor Pokemon, with twisted forms and magical powers akin to the Pokemon of this world! Come one, come all, see our fabulous circus that contains such wondrous beings! But I warn you, no breaking the circus rules. Or you might end up just like them... Please, someone, hear our tale.


**Pokemon (c) Nintendo**

**I own nothing except for the characters in this story.**

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Our Greatest Show Unearthed

His ragged breath graces the cage as it trails around and lightly touches the metals holding him fast. Clink. Clank. He hates chains, hates the sounds they make, the restraining and chafing feeling on his wrists and ankles. He'd get up and pace like he did oh so long ago- was it long ago?- but he felt too tired. Too weak. Too…the word escaped him at the moment. And he used to be so poetic too, able to manipulate words to something wondrous and amazing like the world used to be before he was caught. How long ago was that? It felt like he'd been here forever and yet he remembers the taste of freedom, of laughing and joking with someone, something, he loved so long ago he can't really remember, no, not at all.

His eye rolls up to look at the gray gray ceiling and what little bits of dark blue- navy blue?- creep along its edge. It'd be night soon, and with that came the everyday routine of painmiserysufferingwantingtodiebutcan't and with all that, people. People he'd come to despise for being so happy at their misfortune, every single one of them. People that ignored who they once were and gawked and gasped at their new bodies, they're _deformed_ bodies that creaked and ached for it all to stop. And then there was that one part- no, better not think about it until it actually happens- and after that was daytime when everyone could finally have a respite.

He closes his eye as he here's a mournful croon, the evening song that tells everyone that it's time to wake up from somewhere he couldn't see. He knew who it belonged to, oh yes. He's good friends with that person- well, as friendly as one is allowed to be in this place; is it hell? Might as well be- though not so much with the others here and he wishes he were but he knows that he couldn't because of his supposed "normalcy" compared to the rest. He's not normal, he knows it and he won't believe it no matter how much the others insist he acts more _human_ than the rest of them, which he's not. No, not anymore.

Eye opens and face falls to default blank as he hears a familiar shrill which he hates hates _hates_ with every fiber of his being and the cracking of a whip with the yelps and cries of someone that was hit. Oh, there were protests this time around? Must've been the little girl who was hit, her brother was oh so protective of her and it made everyone's blood boil that a child was trapped here like them, of that he was sure. He hates her, he hates the horrible, dreadful excuse of a woman with cold blue eyes and he sometimes wishes she would die, but more often than not he wishes for himself to die like others before him, like his old friend…More whip cracking and grunting and they immediately fall silent to wait for the flood to come.

And flood they did, visitors pouring into the circus- he thought circuses were supposed to be _fun_ and not-not like _this_!- looking at the cages, staring at the cages- no, staring at _them_ and their twisted bodies to be something other than human and Pokémon from the outside world he wishes he could be a part of once again. He meets all eyes on him with his single one lazily, pretending he doesn't envy them, pretending he doesn't loathe them, relishing their disgruntled expressions and complaints to her ringleadership that that wasn't a freak in a cage, that was a_ human_ for the love of Arceus!- and so on and so forth.

And then she smiles her shark-like grin and answers that there's more to be had, just wait until midnight and you'll see that some of the ones that looked more human than the rest really are freaks of nature, shouldn't exist, shouldn't have been born. He looks away at that comment because he knows it's true, yet he still feels hurt in his cold, dead heart and makes him wish even harder that he would just die already ithurtsithurtsithurtssomuch_ithurts_.

The hour comes much too soon and the cage unlocks and he finds himself kicked to move, but he can't, he just _can't_- And suddenly he finds a small amount of strength to float a bit off the ground and he follows that loathsome woman, chains and all. He catches sight of a man of ice- Vanillish, was it?- tearing into human flesh that's not even enough to fill his stomach with a hunger and eagerness in his eyes and, though he's disgusted by it, his own belly growls and he wishes to join in on the feast because he's never fed in this place. No, it's fine, go ahead and don't feed your starving ghosts. Go ahead and pretend they don't need water as their throats burn and their voices fade into a raspy whisper until it dropped into oblivion. Besides, it's not like they could _die_, right? He marvels at how his friend was still able to sing- forced to, really- and it's a miracle he's been here for so long without losing his mind like some of the inhabitants here.

Curtains swish and he's in the ring along with the three other ghosts left to be had. Not like there'd be anymore, unless someone was able to come back from the dead marvelously and spectacularly all-according-to-plan like they had and she's long given up on making more so this was it. He flashes looks of pity and I'm sorry to every single one of them, which he'd never do to the so called bloodthirsty audience or _her_, not in a million years, before he whips forward and begins this bloody battle. There used to be more too, not just the ghosts, but that quickly stopped when they started losing too many of their precious "performers" to count from these gladiator fights to the death.

He first goes after the female Dusknoir because he knows, poor thing, that she never has the heart to actually kill any of them so she ends up going first and she's long accepted the fact, relieved that she won't have blood on her hands quite yet. She'd rather take harsh punishment than add murder to her name and that's why he goes after her first, to spare her of whatever the ringmaster- hateful woman- has in store for "bad children." She's the most human-like of them all and he loves and hates and envies her for it as the two exchange blows before he reaches for her neck and makes an audible snap, causing her to drop to the ground.

Next he goes after…her, acting so childlike and innocent when really she knows how much this place is for the damned. Even then, she has adapted and had on some occasions even won these brawls of death- perhaps due to the fact they don't _really_ die no matter how much they want to?- this Mismagius has. He's confounded by her, fascinated by her, wants to be with her in the same cage and understand her more, get to know why she acts like she does and pick at her brain like his friend long ago used to do to him and everyone else so he can be on better terms with them and they could all becomes closer. Well, that failed; look where he ended up now, dead and probably scattered somewhere in their own feces because the ones that were still allowed to eat needed to eat _something _and like hell she'd give them normal people food for a change.

As he deals the final blow and watches her collapse, he goes over, bends down, kisses her forehead goodnight, before feeling a hot, searing hit and turning to his last opponent. It was now him and him. The Dusknoir remains stoic- perhaps not, his entire face was covered up with scarves and visors and goodness knows what else to hide his emotions- as he charges forward with a dark and glowing fist which he's unable to dodge, but counters with his own ball of dark, mysterious energy. As they viciously attack each other, he's vaguely aware of the catcalls and hollers and egging ons that make him fight even harder because no, fuck them, _fuck them all_- He gasps as there's something going through where his heart should be and the last thing he sees is his friend's apologetic face before he falls and it gets black, blacker, blackest…

The next time he awakens, he hears worried murmurs of Are they okay? They're not really _dead_, are they? And the minute his one remaining eye flutters open, the crowd gasps and falls silent before screaming occurs. Demon? Zombie? Ghost? Living corpse? He's heard them all and he's used to them, but he pays them no mind and just leans onto Mismagius for support, wishing this particular moment would never end. It has to, though, and he finds himself ripped away from her and marched back to his cage where he's shoved in and he falls flat onto the cold metal surface with the door clanging, slamming shut.

Morning rises and everyone leaves, finally some peace and quiet and hopefully a good day's sleep for them. He tries to rest his bloody and aching all over body, but the memories of his friend fighting him, finally snapping, tearing out his right eye, plague his mind and he finds that he can't really sleep, even to the lullabies of soft weeping in the background.

_Hey._

His eye snaps open and he scrambles to sit upright, an eagerness on his face that wasn't there before. A Ralts- Kirlia? Ralts? The skirt made of skin reach to touch the ground, but you could see the red red eyes like he now calls himself because he's long forgotten his name and hell, he wouldn't even care if the Pokémon was a freaking tiny Gardevoir for all that's worth- stands in front of his cage with food and water, actual necessities that he would've forgotten he needed if it weren't for him and the others that helped. He scoots forward and reaches out for the precious things, quickly downing them and calmly peeking out from the fringes of his "home" to see what was going on.

Strange how the relief started with a single Pokémon taking pity on them and following to offer them a bit of goodness and light into their lives and now it had grown to an entire troupe following them, silently following them because even the Pokémon weren't safe from her creations if they were ever caught. Some dart about to and fro from cage to cage, providing small comforts of _real_ food and _real_ drink to those that could still consume it without feeling sick that it wasn't their normal fare. Others stay with those they've significantly bonded with, like that midget of a Dusknoir with a cute yellow scarf and pink bandana murmuring soothing things to the innocent one and an Absol, the big brother to the little girl that was a rare colored Persian, clinging onto another Dusknoir like there was no tomorrow- No, not his friend, though him and the Absol were like brothers, the Pokemon. But my, weren't there a lot of final evolutions of his line floating about?

His thoughts break at the nudging of his mind by his own partner and he turns back his attention to him and grins. Ah, yes, how were you today and so on and so forth? He was a little tired of the pleasantries, but it kept him sane. Though with how close he was to breaking…The Kirlia could sense it.

_…How bad?_ he asked, _How bad was it this time?_

He laughed and shook his head for it was always bad here, but he humored his friend and told him of the daily suffering that took place today. Let's see, other than slowly losing their grasp of human identity and the abuse that prevailed in this circus, everything was fine and dandy and normal. …But it was getting worse. It was getting worse and he feared more people were reaching the breaking point. He hoped and _prayed_ to whatever legendary that never granted his wish at all to kill them all so they wouldn't have to suffer anymore. He sighed. He was about to lose it too, his sanity was teetering on the edge and he was afraid of losing himself like so many others, like Emil, his best friend that died and whose name was the only one he could remember…

_Your mind's starting to become jumbled up like all the crazy people,_ the psychic-type pointed out, _So yeah, I'd say from a scale of one to danger-get-away-from-the-crazy-person, you're fucking getting there._ He chuckled at the other's dark sense of humor. _Ugh, seriously, I want to get all of you outta here along with half of our group, but the other half is just like, "No, it's too risky, we shouldn't! We'll be caught!" Fucking cowards _know_ that none of you can handle this if it continues and hell even _Grace _thinks that we need to get you out ASAP,_ he continued, jerking his head to the tiny scarf wearing ghost-type, _But no, we have to sit around and do nothing while you guys-_

He stiffened, everyone on circus grounds freezing as if they sensed something bad, something terrible coming their way. The Kirlia swore and quickly apologized before quickly teleporting away, all the other Pokemon scattering in the daylight and causing the partners of those who significantly bonded to cry out with Please don't leave mes before falling into a hush as a new noise, a new screaming, filled the air. The woman was now dragging a girl, middle school aged, to an empty cage and threw her in. The girl, sobbing with new brown ears and tail twitching- Eevee?- rushed to the cage and screamed what had she done to her sister, to which the lady replied coldly that she's now food for them all- she's dead, little girl, died because she couldn't change and become deformed like the rest of them- and now the girl was to work for her. The mention of losing a sibling made his frozen heart twist and ache yet again.

There was a shout and all eyes turn onto the Absol, even the tearful new girl. Even _her_. He yells out rebellious words with a fire in his eyes that excites him and secretly, though he usually dislikes- no, not hates, he's annoying but he doesn't fall onto that level of hate like humans and _she_ does- the dark-type, he's secretly cheering him on for talking her down and hopefully getting her to have a slight change of heart. No such luck, for then she sneers and reminds him of a certain little room she uses to punish individuals and he immediately falters, cowers, backs away from the cage in fear and curls up into a ball. No, no, he doesn't want to go back into that little white room all alone again he hates white and he hates being alone and _he does not want to go back please don't take him there PLEASE! _And he could sympathize with the poor young man, because when alone in that room, the full weight of what the circus does to them crashes down on you and you can only wish you could die while losing track of the time until she lets you out and you see her as your savior. Disgusting, really, but a thing that happens every. Single. Time. They're tossed into the white room and come out days, maybe even weeks later.

He stares coldly and blankly at the woman and her damned snowy hair and her damned black dress and her damned red necklace as flaming hot hatred courses through his veins. The Pokémon that brought them food and water to drink also taught all the inhabitants of the circus abilities, at least, those that formed a partnership with freaks like them. The Ralts- Kirlia- taught him a few nifty little tricks with his psychic prowess which he found to be quite useful. After all, he was able to acquire his little knife- dagger, really- without her notice because of it. Red eye now glowing blue, he lifted the weapon hidden in the corner of his cage with his mind and took aim straight at the person he hated the most in his entire existence as she was about to go and whip the poor Absol boy from the safety of the outside-

It flew straight and true and she gasped as there was now a new little trinket she was wearing from out of her back. For once, he was smiling, grinning even, as he pulled it out slowly, only to push it back in at a different place on her soft and fleshy body. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. It continued on and on until he finally dropped the dagger onto the ground, completely exhausted for some reason. Who knew using psychic powers would take so much work?

There were confused noises as everyone started chattering about who in the world had gone and done _that?_- but he paid that no mind and, once he felt a bit better, he grabbed at the key ring tied to her waist and wrenched it free from her still body. Dragging and dragging onto the ground, all eyes stared upon the moving key ring until it reached close to his cage and he made a grab for it, opening the door and clumsily managing to get the chains off of him.

They minute they clattered onto the metal floor, he felt…elated. Euphoric. _Happy_. He pushed down the feeling of something bubbling and about to burst through his lips and staggered towards the other cages, unlocking them and slowly setting everyone free, free like he was now and like they would be too if they could just stay still…And surprisingly they did, even the more vicious ones who couldn't be trusted and would rather tear him to pieces first than sooner talk to him.

It was chaos. Everyone who had a connection was rushing towards each other as fast as their oh so frail bodies would allow them, laughing and exclaiming at the new turn of events. Everyone avoided him, though, the one that saved them all from that hell. Just as well, he didn't want the attention. He watched with glee as the Pokémon that helped them slowly came out of the woods, their hiding place, and immediately went into the crowd of hybrids to help them in any way they can. There was a familiar nudge on his mind and he turned around to find his Kirlia- Ralts?- staring at him with the poker face he had mastered. He smiled bitterly at his friend. Did he hate him for committing such an atrocious deed? The psychic-type shook his head.

_No, though I'm kind of sick from what you just pulled,_ he huffed, _…Aaand I'm getting sick of what they plan on doing to the body. Ugh, some of you guys are really messed up. _He silently agreed, though time stood still once they registered some kind of shouting in the distance that wasn't them. Everyone scattered once more, this time taking the battered and emaciated and weak hybrids with them to safety. He floated as fast as he could after the teleporting Kirlia, the noise that he kept down finally escaping his lips and devolving into an odd, perhaps even sadistic, kind of laughter. He was free, he was finally finally _free_!

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**Based off of Dark Woods Circus, a little bit of Circus Monster, and The Greatest Show Unearthed. I'm not gonna trust circuses after listening to these songs, even if some of them are good. :'D**

**I...have no idea what made me write this in the middle of the night. Maybe I just wanted to write something with a really disjointed thinking pattern after being abused for so long after thinking about Dark Woods Circus with Pokemon gijinkas. |D And as much as it seems like a happy ending here, it's really not considering how humanity views the gijinkas as freaks of nature that should be killed or put back in the circus. Yep, not really happy at all. :'D Hope you enjoy, and critiques are much appreciated!**


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